When I examine the voluminous archives of those singular adventures highlighting his friend Sherlock Holmes that Dr. Watson has so generously bestowed upon the world, I feel that I would do them an injustice by attempting to either summarize them or to select a representative narrative. For these adventures are so comprehensive in their fundamental causes, location of scenery, characters within them, and those deductive principles which Watson was always desirous to highlight, as to admit no easy summary. Furthermore, these stories are so well-known that they may be considered ubiquitous. Nor has knowledge of them been confined solely to the Anglosphere, as on one visit to London I was thwarted in my attempt to visit 221B Baker Street by a large Korean tourist group. Thus it seems reasonable to omit my traditional summary. Nonetheless, we can observe some consistent characteristics, which will serve both as an exercise in Holmesian close observation and a didactic summary.

The adventure will start with remarks by Watson on the difficulty of selecting one from his records, or commenting that he has only recently been permission to publish this one. After a brief opening setting around 1890, frequently with the two of them in their shared apartment struggling for some amusement, either due to rain, hot an stifling weather, or perhaps Holmes’ chemical experiment ended in failure after a day’s work, talk will progress to a pronouncement by Holmes on what Watson had been doing, or on the state of his medical practice, on the rare occasion when Holmes calls on him at home after he married. Watson will be completely surprised, despite the numerous times this situation will occur, Holmes will say that he should not explain his methods, because it destroys the amazement, and will be vindicated in that view, after he explains the observations of the soil on Watson’s boots, or somesuch, and Watson concludes that it is simplicity itself.

With that a client will arrive, or Holmes will note that a client sent a name card with a note saying he would call at 6 pm, and then observe that unless he is mistaken, that is his hansom stopping at the door. Holmes will introduce the character by stating a number of details about the character, as he did earlier to Watson, who, being completely unprepared for it, will be unnerved with astonishment, although will exhibit symptoms similar to Watson when Holmes explains it. Holmes is helped in his observations with his exhaustive research on obscure subjects, being the author of several “trifling monographs” and studies, including the ashes of 140 different cigars (with color plates in 1885!), an analysis of secret writings, the distinctive shapes of letters of most popular typewriters, and the soils around London. It is truly astonishing the variety of subject matter upon which Holmes directed his detailed studies, and that he retained the entirety of this information in his working memory, for immediate recall. Equally astonishing is the fact of his encyclopedic knowledge of criminal cases on the Continent, and that with all this prodigious research, reading, and the practice in disguises and acting, he even had time to be bored.

Regardless, the client will explain (or re-explain, on the occasion where Watson arrives, and after attempting to politely excuse himself, is requested to stay by Holmes) his or her situation at some length. On occasions where the evidence must be examined in situ, Holmes will take Watson along so that we can observe his methods. By the end of the observation stage, Holmes usually will have either arrived at a likely cause and require some field work to verify the exact details, or will have several possible theories and will require some field work to determine exactly which one.

An examination of Holmes’ methods of gathering will prove instructive, should the reader be in the late-Victorian period and require information on a person’s whereabouts. Readers in other situations will find the insight into the inner workings early-modern England instructive as a cultural introduction. Monitoring the entrance and exit of individuals at a location can be easily accomplished through the maintenance of a cadre of street-arabs (orphaned street children) for a trifling sum of money, as street-arabs are widely ignored, and are therefore effectively invisible. This cadre is also useful in parallelizing searches for an individual of known characteristics, as they can watch many locations simultaneously. More frequently, however, once logic (and observation of obscure but commonplace details) has narrowed down the person or location, the search must be made in person, going through each place of business. It is helpful to have an innocuous reason for inquiring after the person, with appropriate garb and mannerisms if necessary, as this will make the proprietor more disposed to help. Sudden anger on the part of someone is a good sign that you have found the location and that something fishy is going on. It is essential to be adept at identifying personality types—some people will never cooperate with a stranger when asked, but will joyfully correct incorrect assertions. Combative types want to prove you wrong, so defend an incorrect theory until they have thoroughly corrected you, at which point you can satisfy them by admitting that you were mistaken.

At this point, Holmes will present the answer or the lost item to the client, and then explain his deductions and information-gathering activities. Grateful clients may be completely satisfied with the return of their item, at which point Holmes’ can demonstrate his brilliance and satisfy Watson’s curiosity afterwards, otherwise the bare details will be explained to the client, with the finer points of the case explained to Watson’s obliging curiosity. Watson will, presumably, note the details of the case in a journey entry, or perhaps a formalized case file, enabling him to give us singular expositions.

It may be helpful for readers traveling to the late-Victorian age to give a brief framework for understanding inexplicable events. I would first caution such readers that, although the aesthetics, as documented by Sidney Paget’s remarkable illustrations, are excellent, that a modern traveler should be aware that nineteenth century England has a much more restrictive code. While Holmes’ makes a career of transgressing personal privacy, Watson abides by the social norms, frequently noting how “very delicate” a matter is—by which he means it belongs to the personal realm. It would seem that, although people regularly committed “indiscretions” (such as being photographed in the company of a woman who did not end up being your future wife), the social penalty was high. The modern reader is likely to commit “indiscretions” with abandon. Women should be particularly careful: an older spinster was noted as being of the highest respectability (and therefore it was quite out of the question that a shipment of human errors sent to her address could be intended for her), and she lived alone and never went out. One could have a more flexible social life, as did her sister, and the cost of being somewhat less than reputable, although perhaps better than disreputable.

With that background in mind, we can begin to clarify inscrutable events. Photos of the opposite sex should be destroyed, lest your “indiscretion” of exploring your future wife scuttle your impending marriage—even the King of Bohemia is not immune—or destroy your marriage. Blackmail is straightforward, but your warm and loving husband or wife may suddenly avoid you. In this case it is probable that they have some secret. If it is the wife, then there may be an embarrassing marriage in her past which she neglected to tell you about. It has happened, for instance, that a wife neglected to inform her second husband that she had previously been marriage to an American Black man, and have a daughter which, of course, does not meet the pasty white standards of British society. If your woman suddenly vanishes, a reasonable explanation is that a former beloved or husband, long thought dead, turned out to have better fortune and has only now succeed in locating her. A husband acting strangely—abject fear, perhaps—likely has a criminal past which he thought he had escaped (or outwitted, depending on the type of level of repentance) and has finally caught up with him. Should you marry a late-Victorian, it is wise to have a longer engagement than we see with Watson, who met a woman and proposed marriage within the course of a several week investigation in The Sign of the Four. If anything personal is so “very delicate” as to be forbidden, marrying only a “respectable” woman (that is, a recluse at her parents’ house) is a reasonable strategy, but it seems to be a very suboptimal form of societal organization, particularly for women whose first impressions do not awe.

Should you find an employer to be unusually generous, but have odd requirements, you are likely a pawn in a criminal scheme. If you are male, you are paid well to copy the encyclopedia in order to get you out of the way while someone steals money. Perhaps they merely need access to the cellar of the pawnshop you run, in order to tunnel into the bank across the street, or perhaps they are impersonating you at a financial company to steal stocks and bonds (which, owing to the lack of digital infrastructure, are like cash in that physical possession indicates ownership). If you are female, the request to sit visibly at the window could be to impersonate someone. While such a situation makes for an exciting addition to Watson’s sensational publications, you would be wise to avoid situations that are excessively good.

Criminal matters are harder to categorize, except that one should be suspicious of the easy answer. While Holmes’ repeats that the more the strange the case, the more straightforward the crime, the strangeness comes from unknown information. Plaster busts of Napolean do not get stolen just to be immediately smashed for no reason, merely that the reason is unknown to you. This is where an encyclopedic knowledge of criminal cases comes in handy. Students of Watson’s chronicles would be aware of a case where such vandalism was a result of the worker hiding stolen jewels in the bust and then having to search for it. Time may be of the essence, so such familiarity would help quickly recognize the cause, in order to begin the search for remaining busts immediately. Of course, keen Holmesian analysis of eliminating hypothesis which do not fit the facts may also arrive at the same conclusion, but may require the time to smoke a large quantity of odiferous tobacco while performing the analysis, not only increasing the likelihood of developing lung cancer, but delaying the start of your search.

As Holmes notes on at least one occasion, Watson both adds unnecessary emotional colour and does not provide all the pieces of information required to solve the puzzle. This hidden information is deduced by Holmes from observations which are not made available to the reader, and frequently obtained by Holmes through his personal investigation. Watson did start including more observations, but the import is not available to the reader. Lacking Holmes study of cigar ash, the reader cannot know that the ashes are from a form of tobacco used by sailors, thus implicating the sailor suspect. Similarly, Holmes’ motives are hidden, so while the reader can see that Holmes smokes a lot of a type of imported cigarette beloved by a certain invalid, the reader cannot know that Holmes was smoking them to determine if a draft existed, which would indicate a secret door, whereby someone could be hid, which would account for the invalid’s sudden increased appetite that was idly mentioned by the staff. Thus, Watson’s accounts do not conform to the accepted mystery protocol, where the reader could, in theory, determine the answer, but is misdirected by slight-of-word.

However, despite not conforming to protocol, Sherlock Holmes is the archetypal detective as opposed to those detectives which do follow protocol. It is instructive to consider why. A main reason is focus. Logic problems do not make for exciting reading, and the habit of mystery novelists to provide three or four equally plausible suspects to confuse the reader and divert attention from the slight-of-word being performed dilutes the narrative. Watson can focus on the human narrative—including the danger to the client—without needing to distract the reader. Typically there are only one or two possible suspects anyway, and the mystery involves the background that motivated the crime, rather than the means with which the crime was committed, while still providing the satisfaction of logical deduction with the advantage of doing so as a deferred flashback story instead of simply the reveal of a chain of logic. Write J.K. Rowling uses this technique in some of the Harry Potter books, which take the form of a mystery, which Potter eventually uncovers. The focus there is not on the logical deductions, or why the event happened, but uncovering the background story behind the events. Like Watson’s, Rowling’s mysteries are not a logic problem that could, in theory, be solved by the reader. Instead, the background information that advances the plot is hidden from the reader and slowly uncovered by the action of the main characters.

Another reason why Holmes is archetypal is that he, as a character, is simply archetypal by nature, which I call the “bad-ass”. Normally, of course, a “bad-ass” is a consummate fighter, a Hero, like Beowulf who defeats every monster he encounters (although his hubris leads also to his death by the last monster). Beowulf can wrestle Grendel with super-human strength, hold his breath during a super-human dive to kill Grendel’s mother (although that also took the use of a magic sword in her treasure-stash), defeat all human enemies, and even endure dragon’s fire. Similarly, the bad-ass cowboy will turn out to be quicker on the draw than the outlaw. However, an archetypal “bad-ass”, in my view, can be a consummate wielder of any single trait. So Gandalf is a bad-ass wise man. True, he is a wizard, but his true power is in motivating action through wisdom. In this view, then, Sherlock Holmes is a bad-ass thinker. Poirot is too much a lover of sophistication, which dilutes his thinking, and Lord Peter Whimsy is a dilettante who has a detective hobby, but Sherlock Holmes is pure intellect, to the point that he explicitly avoids emotional attachments, criticizes Watson for “sensationalizing” his narratives instead of producing a coldly rational, instructive narrative. Holmes has his quirks, like keeping his pipe in his slipper, and eating a late breakfast still in his dressing gown (a habit which was probably not “respectable” in an age where even “loafers” wore three-piece suits), but they are the sort of absent-minded quirks which everyone knows are characteristic of people who care more about intellectual pursuits than physical comfort. Holmes is, essentially, an intellectual Hero. In some sense, though, Holmes is a Hero that feels accessible: I could be like Holmes, if only I were more observant of the details around me; I could be like Holmes if only I could reason astutely. In an age that was applying scientific reasoning to every field that it could, Holmes is a sort of representative Hero, the way Achilles and Odysseus were to ancient Greece.

Any discussion of Watson’s collection would be incomplete without a comment on Sidney Paget’s extraordinary illustrations. To the modern reader, at least, Paget’s illustrations provide a window into a vanished world of imperturbable Englishmen three piece suits, top hats, and distinctive mustaches, and excitable women with black dresses and poofy shoulders. We see little of the world around, except the occasional chair and sometimes the breakfast, but the people are just as vivid as the text, and somehow of the same flavor, with the result that the two reinforce each other. “The past is a foreign country”, and as the text gives an unintentional time-capsule of life in that country, the illustrations are the spirit that brings it to life.

Interestingly Holmes’ distinctive cap is actually only shown in some early illustrations; usually he and Watson wear top hats, or later on, bowlers. The magnifying glass is never shown, and the text only mentions it in the early stories. Holmes starts off very counter-cultural, crawling around with his magnifying glass on the ground in his three-piece suit, but over time he trades the magnifying glass for keener observation standing or kneeling. His pipe, though, remains a fixture, although not as part of his uniform, but only as an aid for thinking.

Watson’s inimitable accounts of Sherlock Holmes’ cases are thrilling tales, excellent mysteries, and a rich view onto late-Victorian middle-class life (similar to how O'Henry stories are windows into life in New York City in 1900). Between the logic and the relational aspect of the characters’ stories, they have something for every, and are well-written in addition. They are still going strong after a hundred years, and I believe that, in addition to their appeal as story, their appeal as a time-capsule will only increase as the 1890s becomes more distant from contemporary life, although newcomers to the Victorian Era may find an annotated version helpful in understanding cultural aspects.